


Sanctuary Is Washed In Ice, Blood, and Truth

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Lies, Misdirection, and Terrible Truth [1]
Category: Mythology - Fandom, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: GFY, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those who know him would think he'd seek the company of others of like mind to himself. Tricksters, liars, those who have their own agenda. They have not met his allies, found when he slipped between realms and walked the ways he found there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary Is Washed In Ice, Blood, and Truth

One has crow feathers in her hair, and blood on her teeth when she smiles. The other has a form that no two people see the same. Neither are tricksters. Both are dangerous in their own way as any trickster - and not in the sort of physical sense that would impress his idiot brother.

Not that either of them is in any way weak, or unfit for battle. Indeed, he's seen them both in the thick of such things. One laughs as she stands in a storm of crows, the emblems of the dead collecting at her feet. The other is silent as she wades through blood she spills, and scatters the remains of her enemies to the wind.

Odin had passed judgement, and Loki had fled, unwilling to allow his sentence to be carried out. He needs allies, and there are those - in the Nine Realms and outside of them - that have no love for the All-Father.

Those who know him would think he'd seek the company of others of like mind to himself. Tricksters, liars, those who have their own agenda. They have not met his allies, found when he slipped between realms and walked the ways he found there.

One is a survivor of a war waged long ages past, fierce and sharp-edged, whose magic twists her form and condemns those she chooses, washing her in a river of blood. Her voice is gone harsh and loud, like the calls of the crows she surrounds herself with. Feathers dance in her hair, and she takes to the air with all the grace of those birds she loves.

The other is born of heat and sand and desert rivers, coaxing life from nothing, and refusing the call of death. Beautiful and terrible and unknowable. Wanton who seeks no husband but a brother who cannot touch her. Winnower who defies all the universe and the cold hands of death - and wins with a trick worthy even of him.

As he steps from Asgard to Midgard, shaking and angry and once again - expectedly and predictably - betrayed, he finds them waiting for him. He's not entirely certain which of the realms they came from, if indeed they came from any of them. If their worlds aren't gone, lost in the wars of the youth of Asgard, or from the shifting of the branches of the Worlds Tree.

A cloak of raven feathers is wrapped about his shoulders, and he is escorted past mortals who see nothing but the beauty who precedes him into an opulant building where servants rush to tend to them. A chill bath is waiting for him, water that should be slushy with ice, if not frozen solid, and kept from such a state by sheer power. Knowing him better than he's known himself in a long time.

The cold seeps into his bones, invigorating more than he had expected, while they leave him to his own devices. A dangerous game for anyone, but these two know themselves and him well enough both to trust him and not to trust him. It's a balance that he's not sure he understands, though it certainly makes them useful allies and interesting ones from time to time.

They're settled in comfortable chairs on either side of a third when he emerges from the bathing room dressed in the familiar casual clothing of Asgard. He might not be particularly welcome there at the moment, but it's still home, and the clothing is a needed familiarity. Servants all but materialize at his side once he takes the empty chair, silently offering food and drink before they leave the three to their silence and their thoughts.

"What has All-Father decreed now?" That is Anat, her form no longer as distinct as once it was - a sign, indeed, that he's changed, for once it was pale and dark-haired as his own, sharp-featured and lithe. She must have a true form, and for him, truth has become more a beauty than even before. Beautiful and terrible and painful.

"That I am to be punished for my transgressions with some story that the people of this realm thought up." Loki's smile is sharp as broken glass, and he doesn't elaborate on what Odin had said. He does not need to, for these two are well-traveled on Midgard, and know well enough the stories they tell of all three. Even exile here is preferable to some of the punishments that could be inflicted.

A harsh cry of laughter bubbles up from the depths of the Morrigan, though her smile isn't bloody as her battle-smile. Loki likes her battle-smile better. It's more honest and less dangerous than the one she sports now. "All-Father thinks to teach you what? Humility?"

"I do not claim to know his thoughts." Loki shrugs, sipping at the cold drink that had been provided. "But perhaps." He thinks rather that Odin wishes him to learn something else, discretion or restraint, but they're not lessons Loki is willing to learn in the manner Odin wishes to teach them. Better to learn them by doing than by holding still, even if not everyone sees the difference from the outside.

Anat watches him with a gaze that says better than words she knows he's not telling the entire truth, but she doesn't ask for what he's not saying. She's closer to trickster than the Morrigan, though her tricks are more physical than most of Loki's. Not as subtle, for all her potential, and a suitable distraction from his own misdirection and outright lies.

"You are welcome here as long as you wish it," she says instead of pressing, sipping at her own drink as she watches him. "Regardless of whose attention it attracts, and what measures might be needed to ensure the sanctuary of this place." It's a none-too-subtle dig at those who might be watching from beyond Midgard, and even less subtle a threat. That the two have the power between them to back the threat is something no one needs to mention.


End file.
